


Fireside

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [7]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Arguing, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Cunnilingus, Day 4 Kinktober, Day 4 Kinktober Hairpulling, Day 4 Kinktober Voice Kink, Day Four Kinktober, Day Four Kinktober Hairpulling, Day Four Kinktober Voice Kink, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fucking, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hair-pulling, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Name-Calling, One Shot, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Out of Character Aaron Hotchner, POV Second Person, Power Dynamics, Power Play, References to Arctic Monkeys, Short One Shot, Smut, Song Lyrics, Song: Fireside (Arctic Monkeys), Switch Aaron Hotchner, Switch Reader, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, bisexual reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: There’s something about Hotch that really lights a fire in your veins. But you’re both profilers. You both know exactly what it is between you.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862236
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Fireside

_"I can't explain but I wanna try._

_There's this image of you and I,_

_And it goes dancing by_

_In the morning and in the night time."_

\- "Fireside," _Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

You're a profiler. You were trained to notice these kinds of things. It was just an unspoken rule to not profile your coworkers, especially your boss. But for this case, you just couldn't ignore it.

The BAU had to partner with the DEA in Atlanta to bust a drug ring. The only reason you were involved is because it was suspected that one of the members of the drug ring was a serial killer, a prolific one hiding under the guise of gang violence. Due to the nature of the unsub's crimes, the police were very hesitant to book her – the profile pointed towards a female sexual sadist – under drug charges alone. So that's where you and Hotch came in, or rather, came under.

Undercover was never one of your favorite positions to be in. You preferred the direct approach. The "Derek Morgan" approach as your teammates dubbed it. Usually Emily was better suited for the stealthier operations, but she would stick out like a sore thumb with this gang, so that left you.

The problem was it wasn't just you. You brought bait for the unsub. That was Hotch's role.

He fit the victimology very well. White man, 30s to 40s, obviously successful, figure of authority. According to the profile, the unsub had severe daddy issues, something that prevented her from sexual gratification, so instead she found that satisfaction with killing these men instead. Men like Hotch.

While he seemed all too calm about it, you were a little on edge. You were supposed to bring him to the unsub, alone, as a gift. So that's how you ended up shoving Hotch into the warehouse that the unsub liked to hang out at. This time the unsub was alone, the usual girl who hung out with her in police custody. That was how you found this place.

"Where's Victoria?" Ariana Harrison asked, neither threatened nor surprised at your appearance with Hotch in tow.

"She got up caught up in the latest shipment, but she sent me here to find you," you bluffed.

Ariana sized you up with one flick of her eyes. She was very beautiful, it was easy to see how she could get her victims, but at the same time she was unsuspectingly small. Still, you had to be on your guard with her. "Did Victoria tell you to bring the pig with you?" She jerked her chin at Hotch.

At this point you made a show of kicking Hotch behind the knee to force him on the ground. His hands were zip tied together and he was gagged for good measure. He grunted with pain as he hit the ground, but you didn't falter with any sympathy. "Shut the fuck up," you hissed at him as you snatched his head back by his hair. Around the gag in his mouth, Hotch made another noise and his eyes fluttered, but as soon as it happened it was gone. You doubted Ariana would notice, but you're a profiler, so you definitely did. But now was not the time. "Yeah, Victoria actually said that you'd think he'd be a nice present."

"Really?" Ariana tilted her head, her pony tail swishing over her shoulder. It was the most animated expression you'd seen from her yet besides boredom. "How'd she figure that?"

"She said that a guy like this wouldn't know how to treat a lady with any respect," you told her, remembering what Victoria said from the interview, "but maybe you'd teach him some manners?"

Slowly, Ariana pulled out a pocketknife and leaned against one of the crates. As she started using the blade to clean underneath her fingernails, you eyed it up. It matched the suspected weapon used on the previous victims perfectly. "I don't think I can teach a guy like this some manners." She pushed herself off the crate and stalked up to Hotch where he knelt. "Maybe I'd just show him how it feels."

"How what feels?" You prompted, needing her to show her hand. It was imperative that you catch her using the same technique as she did with the kills, the death-from-above stab down where the shoulder met the neck.

"How it feels to mistreat your lady."

Ariana's hand came down, and you immediately tackled her to the floor, knocking the pocketknife from hand.

After that it was a blur of SWAT teams, and then the DEA destroying crates looking for blow. As you and Hotch were getting ready to leave, you checked back in with him again. "How are you holding up, Hotch?"

He rubbed his wrists, focusing on them instead of meeting your eye. "Just fine. Good work out there, agent."

And that was the most you got of him for the rest of the case. On the jet while everyone else was sleeping – including Hotch – you just sat there and watched him. You didn't think he'd resent you for this. Before you both went in, he assured you to do what you had to do. Reviewing everything you did in your head, it wasn't until you thought about his expression when you pulled his hair that you started piecing it together.

* * *

Turnabout is fair play. On the next case, you went undercover again, but with Emily this time. Hotch meanwhile was as far away as he could be in the van, just a buzz in your ear. Which was really, really unfortunate because every time he checked in, you were distracted by his voice. It wasn't until Emily was asking if you were okay did you realize what was happening between your legs.

Of course, you always thought Hotch had a nice voice, but after that last case, you dreamed about him every night. And in your dreams, he conveniently lacked the mouth gag. Instead you could hear every whimper, every moan as you'd tug on his hair and lead him around like your little puppy dog. Sometimes you'd dream about his face between your legs and you'd wake up horny and frustrated, but more often than not, you just dream about him talking to you, seducing you, begging you to take him. You thought it would just go away, but it didn't.

Emily was the one who ended up arresting the unsub since you were so distracted. While the police were busy wrestling him into one of their cars, Hotch took you aside. "Emily asked if you were okay in there," he murmured to you, trying to be as discrete as possible when surrounded on all sides. But his voice cut through all the general chatter as if it was nothing. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm…I'm fine," you insisted, but you knew that your breathing would suggest otherwise. "Can I go back to the motel?"

Hotch searched your face before he relented. "I'll drive you back. Prentiss, ride with Morgan to the station."

"Will do," she said with a smirk at your retreating back.

Though neither you nor Hotch were around to hear it since you had already clambered into one of the black SUVs, Morgan asked Emily, "You think those two will finally hook up?"

Emily just shook her head. "God willing."

* * *

You weren't surprised that Hotch didn't leave you alone in your motel suite. He had a tendency to linger, and Hotch's paranoia about his team's safety was a little intense. But hey, he had the track record to prove it, so you couldn't fault him for that. In this particular case, though, you wished he could just give you a little space to just breathe. "Do you have to follow me into my room?" you complained mildly.

"I think there are some things we need to discuss first," Hotch said frankly. "I don't see a point in waiting."

"You mean waiting any longer?" You corrected him, finally turning around to face him. You were both standing in front of the two motel beds like two predators competing for hunting grounds. Hotch had his arms crossed across his chest, defensive posturing, but his chin was held high. You mirrored his pose, but kept you chin low, eyes on him. "I know you've been avoiding me since the Ariana unsub. Are you finally going to be honest with me?"

At first you thought Hotch wouldn't answer you since he was silent for so long. Eventually, though, he did. "I would like to be honest with you, but you make it…difficult."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. On the other hand, you had no problem talking. It was like opening the floodgates on all the things you wanted to say but couldn't out of fear, out of respect to your boss, because the timing was never right, because you were never sure it was your place to say it. "Pot, fucking kettle, Hotch. God, you're impossible. You drive me crazy. I swear, it's like I'm on fire when I'm around you."

"Do you know why?" Hotch interrupted.

That took the wind out of your sails. "What?"

"Do you know why you feel that way around me?" Hotch prompted.

You bit your lip, stalling your answer. You knew exactly why, and you're sure that Hotch did, too, but he wanted to make you say it. "You make me feel this way because I want to fuck you."

The corner of Hotch's mouth twitched. "Strip."

"Make me."

Heat flared in his eyes, and his brown eyes went impossibly dark at the same time. Both of you moved for the other, and when you collided, sparks flew. Your kiss was a battle for dominance, and both of your hands were frantic in the race to get the other stripped bare first. There were no first-time flurries or bubbles of insecurities because all you could focus on was him, the way Hotch felt hot and hard under your hands, how his mouth was coffee-flavored, the way he tried to not make any noise at all but you managed to drag little gasps out of him.

The first chance you had to breathe, Hotch had managed to get you out of your pants and underwear first while he was still clad in just his boxers. He pushed you on the bed and then immediately crawled between your legs, eyes on the apex of your thighs.

"You know how I knew you wanted to fuck me?" Hotch suddenly spoke. His voice lanced through your body like a bolt of lightning, lighting every heightened sense on fire. He didn't have to wait for you to respond. "It's how you respond to my voice." Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he pinned them to the bed so you couldn't hide yourself from view. "At first, I thought maybe you had an authority kink, but there was nothing in your file to suggest so. And if that was the case, maybe men like Rossi and Morgan would have the same effect on you. But it's not anything they have. It's me."

The longer he spoke, the more and more you found it hard to breathe. Your chest was tight. You were already wet, but you could feel yourself getting wetter by the minute.

"You like the sound of my voice, don't you?" Hotch asked rhetorically. "I could say anything and you'd melt for me. I wouldn't even have to call you any nice names." He dragged one fingertip on the inside of your thigh where some of your juices started to drip. "I could read the phone book to you, right here, just like this, and you'd fall apart because you're just a little whore for me."

At that you groaned and you couldn't keep your hands to yourself any longer. Faster than a shot, you reached down and wove your fingers into his dark head of hair and tugged. The sound that Hotch released was sinful to the ear and just as decadent.

"Watch how you talk to me, Hotch," you bit out. His eyes were baleful when he met your gaze, jaw tight. "I'm a profiler, too, honey, and I know you like giving up control every now and then." To prove your point, you tugged at his hair again, watching Hotch's eyes roll to the back of his head.

When he was able to meet your gaze again, the heat in his eyes had cooled down to a simmer, and you knew exactly why. You had control here. "Good boy," you murmured and smoothed your hand down through his hair until you pushed it off his forehead.

Hotch looked sorely tempted to lean into your touch, but he resisted. In time, maybe he could trust you with more, be a little softer, but for now you could have this. Quickly, you pushed any thoughts you had of more than this out of your mind. It was dangerous to think anything like that, not with both of your careers on the line. Getting back to business, you used the grip you had on his hair and pushed his head down. "Now, you're going to make me come with that mouth and those hands, and maybe, I'll consider letting you come."

Not looking surprised at all, Hotch only blinked at you. You huffed through your nose, impatient to begin. "Better get started." This time when you pushed his head, Hotch didn't resist.

The first touch of his tongue against your sex was both bliss and agony. Bliss because you had waited – for how long you were afraid to even acknowledge the though – for Hotch's mouth on you like this. Agony because you had no idea how long this could last, and yet you were already sure that no one else could ever compare to having Aaron Hotchner between your legs.

You had had a sneaking suspicion for a while that even though Hotch rarely smiled, his mouth had to be good for something. You were correct. Hotch latched his lips around your clit with no hesitation, alternating between sucking and nipping. His tongue probed every bit of you, sinking into your entrance to drink your essence. He lapped every bit of your juices as if it would be his last.

Then his fingers also joined. Hotch had large hands and thick fingers, this you knew. But how could you had ever known just how quick and nimble those fingers could be as you traced ever tightening circles around your clit, teasing you with the pressure but never directly touching it. With the first prod of a single digit inside your channel, he curled and found your g-spot easily. He only removed his finger to slide another alongside it so you could feel that delicious burn and stretch. If you were this full from his fingers alone… your head spun at the thought of his cock replacing them.

While Hotch tended to you, you hadn't been lax either. Every time he did something new that you liked, you rewarded him with little tugs to his hair. You were sure you were murdering his scalp, but he never complained. His little hisses and groans when his mouth wasn't occupied were always noises of his pleasure. It was a rhythm you both settled into easily. You pulled at his hair to keep him in place, though he would never be otherwise, and Hotch worked hard to make you come.

The whole time he was between your legs, you kept your eyes on him despite all your writhing around. This was something that you wanted to remember, a memory that would be seared inside your brain for as long as you could hope to cherish it. You wanted to watch Hotch's face, how his eyes slipped shut as he lost himself in your flavor, how your juices shined on his chin, how the muscles of his jaw flexed, how he rutted his hips against the bed just from this.

Somehow, you were able to whimper out, "You're gonna come, aren't you?" Hotch's eyes snapped open and met yours as you tugged to get his attention. "You're gonna come just like this, eating me out? Squirming in your mess on the sheets like a filthy slut?"

Hotch moaned and pulled his mouth off of your clit. You didn't have time to mourn its loss because soon his thumb was rubbing against it and you were right back on the edge again. "You taste so fucking good," Hotch confessed. He dragged his eyes away from your face and back on his handiwork. "I could stay here forever, playing with you, finding how many different ways I can make you come for me." Using your thigh as a pillow, Hotch laid his cheek against you, and heat bloomed in your chest at the sight. "And then I'd spend all night telling you how many different ways I could wrap you around my finger because _you are mine_."

That was what got you. Your orgasm didn't so much as surprise you as much as it crashed into you. Your walls clamped down around his fingers greedily and you squirted in his face. At this point, you could no longer keep your eyes open. If you had, you'd have been able to see Hotch stick out his tongue or how his bucking humps sped up until he spent himself in his boxers with all of the self-control, indulgence, and shame as a teenager.

When you could peel your eyelids open again, Hotch hadn't moved a muscle from between your legs except to stick his fingers in his mouth and suck. His eyes were shut, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. Even though his fingers had to be clean of your juices, he kept them in his mouth, rolling his tongue along the digits lazily. Hotch's hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat he had worked up, but what wasn't sticking down was sticking up every which way from your vigorous tugging. You had never seen him look so relaxed.

Afraid of ruining the moment, you dropped your head back against the pillows with nothing more than a sigh. You ran your hands through his hair, so soft when it was free of gel product. And the two of you fell asleep, leaving the conversation that must be had for the morning.


End file.
